


Divine Absolution

by adventures_in_wonderland



Category: Naruto
Genre: (hopefully), Elements of Horror, F/M, Hashirama sucks, I love him but I have plans, Kitsune, M/M, Mystery, Naruto & Sasuke Come In Later, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paranormal, Sakura is an Uzumaki, Self-Indulgent, Some Relationships Are One-Sided - Freeform, Tags May Change, some Japanese mythology elements, the supernatural bit isn't thought out yet oops, this is shit and I have no regrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 10:29:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16554077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adventures_in_wonderland/pseuds/adventures_in_wonderland
Summary: This is the first secret: Haruno Sakura does not exist.Or,Shisui falls in love with a ghost of a girl. The Uzumaki are something else, something other. Red hair, red blood, they'll tear this town apart.





	1. Prologue

Konoha is a place that grows secrets like flowers, a place where words whispered behind closed doors have a way of getting out. Konoha is a town of secrets. Haruno Sakura is a girl with more secrets than most, so perhaps it is fate that she comes to Konoha at the beginning of autumn, when the fog is thick and heavy from the town square to the seashore, the air is heavy and smells like a storm, and it’s been one year to the day since the mayor’s wife disappeared.

It’s nearing midnight when Sakura pulls up in front of the town’s only diner. Ino is the only one working; the diner is empty other than herself and Iruka, dozing off on a pile of ungraded essays. Only Ino is there to witness Sakura’s arrival.

Sakura is all grace and old money, that much is easy to tell: her car is sleek and black and Italian; her coat is fur-lined and probably worth more than anything Ino owns; her dress is white – like a bride, Ino thinks, or a ghost – and her hair is swept up elegantly. These things, in and of themselves, are not alarming. It’s Sakura’s hair – pastel pink, almost, a few shades lighter than red, red, _red_ – that gives Ino pause.

The diner is silent beyond the soft, almost inaudible sound of the radio playing a maudlin love song and the pounding of Ino’s heart. Sakura smiles. Her teeth are too-white against the red of her lips. “Who’re you?” Ino asks before she can stop herself. Her voice is too-loud in the silence, breathless with a fear that she doesn’t yet understand.

“Haruno Sakura.” She extends a perfectly-manicured hand. Ino doesn’t take it. Sakura drops her hand, but her smile doesn’t falter. “And you?” There’s something familiar about her, even if Ino doesn’t recognize the name.

“Yamanaka Ino,” she whispers, the words drawn out by some unknown compulsion. “What brings you to Konoha?”

“Oh, Ino.” For a moment, Ino sees someone else instead of Sakura; red hair instead of pink, a different color flashing in Sakura’s green doe-eyes. Then the moment is gone. Sakura looks sympathetic. “You already know.”

Ino’s hands shake. “We’re closed.” The 24-hour sign flickers damningly in the window. Sakura doesn’t say a word, just smiles and walks out to her car. Ino waits until she’s driven away, the purr of her engine quiet beneath the crashing of the waves, then calls the first person who comes to mind.

“Shisui. I think I just saw a ghost.” Because for one awful moment, it hadn’t been Sakura standing in the diner. It had been Uzumaki Mito, the mayor’s dead wife.


	2. Haruno Sakura

Ino doesn’t wait until morning to see Shisui. As soon as her shift ends, she walks to Shisui’s apartment. The fog lays thick and heavy still. Ino pulls her jacket closer to combat the chill of the air. Shisui opens the door three minutes after she knocks, hair messy and clothes rumpled, tiredness written in every line of his face. He steps back, and Ino pushes her way into the apartment, shedding her coat and kicking her shoes off as she makes herself comfortable on his couch.

“So,” Shisui says, his voice rough with sleep. “You saw a ghost.” He sits beside Ino and she curls into his side. His arm wraps around her shoulder easily, and slowly but surely, she relaxes. Shisui and his brother, Obito, are the only Uchiha that Ino can call friends these days. “Who’s ghost?” Shisui asks, rubbing her arm soothingly.

“Uzumaki Mito,” Ino whispers. She feels Shisui go rigid beside her. Uzumaki Mito is a sore spot for all of the Uchiha, but for Shisui in particular – he’s lead detective on her case, since Madara’s "retirement," and it’s been a year with no leads and no developments. Uzumaki Mito, the mayor’s wife, who vanished from her house without a trace on a stormy night last autumn. Shisui is silent for a moment, two, three, and then –

“We don’t know that she’s dead. The investigation is ongoing.” Calm, rational – Ino expects that from Itachi, but not from Shisui. Mito’s disappearance is like an open wound, but the older citizens of Konoha seem content to forget that Mito even existed, letting the wound fester as if it will heal on its own.

 “It’s been a _year_ , Shisui!” Ino argues. “If she were alive, you would have found her by now. Besides, I know what I saw!” The eye color was different, but the shape was the same; hair a few shades lighter, but the shape of her face, the slant of her smile, even the way she carried herself… “She said her name was Haruno Sakura, but I _know_ she was lying, you have to believe me –” Ino stops herself, but there’s a sharp intake of breath, and Shisui’s arm tightens around her. He knows what she was going to say. You have to believe me _this time_. The words linger in the air, heavy for all that they remain unsaid.

“Haruno Sakura?” Shisui repeats. Ino nods, small and sure. “I’ll run a background check, see what I can find.” He presses his lips to her forehead, a familiar, comforting gesture. “Don’t worry too much, Ino. I’m sure it’s not Mito.” He doesn’t say _it’s not a ghost_ because they both know that Konoha is a place where things are not always what they seem. The unbelievable has always seemed a little more probable in their seaside town, the ocean stretching out for an eternity to the north and the forest dark and encroaching on the south.

Ino falls asleep curled in Shisui’s arms. His apartment seems like the safest place in Konoha, these days.

.

.

.

Morning comes early; the sunlight is pale and watery, and the fog is only just lighter than it had been at night. It’s just past six in the morning, and Ino’s shift is barely beginning. She’s exhausted from last night; even concealer can’t hide the shadows beneath her eyes, and her hair is pulled back from her face in a messy similitude of her usual high ponytail. She’s making coffee for the mayor’s assistant, Shikaku, when Sakura walks in. She’s wearing four-inch heels and a black dress over sheer tights and a short, fur-lined cape, her hair loose and curled, looking for all the world like she’s come from a funeral – Konoha’s funeral, maybe. Or her own, Ino thinks, a bit resentful of this girl she’s only barely met.

Every head turns as Sakura walks up to the counter, and the diner goes so quiet that Ino can hear the click of Sakura’s heels until she stops in front of Ino, her smile sugar-sweet. “What do you want?” Ino asks. It comes out harsher than she’d intended, but a glance around the diner tells her that no one is going to judge her too harshly. The faces of the patrons range from suspicion to outright hostility.

“Coffee,” Sakura says, arching a brow. “I would have thought that was obvious.” Ino stares at her, stony-faced. “Black, medium. To go, if that’s alright.” Sakura’s irritatingly sweet smile doesn’t slip, even as Ino glares and stomps over to the coffee machine. She returns a moment later with a paper cup of coffee.

Sakura accepts the coffee with a murmured thanks. “Konoha isn’t a place for people like you,” she snaps.

“And what sort of person am I?” There’s amusement in Sakura’s eyes, and something darker that Ino can’t and doesn’t want to understand.

“The kind who sticks her nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Some coffee splashes onto Sakura’s hand as she sets her cup down quickly. “Is everyone in Konoha as charming as you?” She wipes the coffee off her hand and drums her nails on the counter. There’s a hint of a smile playing at her lips, less sickly-sweet than before, not quite genuine, but… it’s a start.

“We don’t get many outsiders here,” Ino says softly. Her eyes dart to Sakura’s hair. Her lips twist into something that’s almost a smile. “But I’m actually one of the more charming people here. A word of advice? Watch out for the Uchiha. They’ll eat a girl like you alive.”

“Thanks for the warning.” Because there’s no doubt as to how Ino meant it. Her blue eyes are sad and a little misty, and there’s an unspoken understanding, because Sakura knows what it’s like to be hurt, too. Ino doesn’t trust Sakura, doesn’t even like her, really, but they at least have this. Sakura sets some money on the counter, and, brushing her almost-pink hair out of her eyes, walks out of the diner. Ino doesn’t watch her go.

.

.

.

Itachi comes to work to find Shisui already at his desk – a miracle in and of itself – and working. He stops, frowning, and stares at his cousin. Shisui hasn’t been this motivated since Uzumaki Mito disappeared – not that a small town like Konoha gets many cases, really. The Konoha Police Department is just the two of them and Izuna now, though Izuna’s poor health keeps him away from work most days. Itachi leans on the desk beside Shisui, who looks up, startled. “What are you working on? A new case?”

“Not exactly.” Shisui leans back and runs his hands through his already-messy hair. “Ino came over last night.”

“She does that almost every night,” Itachi remarks. Somehow, he keeps his tone dry instead of disapproving.

“Yeah, but this time…” Shisui hesitates, worrying his lip between his teeth. “Someone from out of town came to Konoha. A girl named Haruno Sakura, but Ino says she looks like Mito.”

Interested, Itachi leans down to get a better look at Shisui’s computer. “What have you found?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Shisui admits, smiling ruefully. “Ino didn’t have much besides the name, but I had a hunch and called Kurenai. Apparently, our Sakura is staying at the inn. She told Kurenai that she’s from Ame and wanted to get away from the city for a while. But I haven’t found any trace of a Haruno Sakura from anywhere, let alone Ame.”

Itachi hums, thinking. He feels like he’s forgetting something. The name Sakura… it’s familiar, but he doesn’t dare to hope. He’s overanalyzing, that’s all. It’s the mention of Ame that’s caught his attention, that’s all. Sasuke’s been gone for years, now, and the chances of him still being in Ame are slim, but… “I’ll take over in the office,” he offers. “You can go try to meet this Sakura, see what information you can find?”

“Good idea.” Shisui stands, pulling his jacket on and grabbing his keys.

“Oh, and Shisui?” Itachi calls. Shisui pauses in the doorway and looks back at his cousin. Itachi is watching him with a resigned expression. “Don’t confront her. We don’t need any unnecessary gossip going around. Discretion is the better part of valor, after all.”

Shisui nods, then shoves his hands in his pockets and leaves the small police department. It’s colder than he’d expected outside – unseasonably cold, even for autumn. It reminds him of the winter that Mito came to Konoha. He had been young then, nine years old when a girl from Uzushio came to town with a smile and a suitcase and not much else. Snow had fallen that year for the first time in almost a decade. The more superstitious people in town claimed that it was an omen – that Hashirama shouldn’t marry the outsider for Uzushio, because she had brought snow and winter to their town.

Shisui thinks they’re full of shit. Snow is caused by atmospheric temperature, that’s all. If this autumn’s temperatures are any indication, they’re in for another snowy winter, as uncommon as that is in their seaside town. Shisui shivers, wishing he’d worn a scarf. He’s only a few meters from the diner – and warmth! – when he sees her. And stops in his tracks.

Haruno Sakura. There’s no doubting that it’s her. She looks just like Ino described; more than that, he can see Mito in the shape of her face, the way she carries herself. Her hair is loose and windswept and almost too-pink to be called strawberry blonde; almost like she’d had hair as red as Mito’s, crimson hair like blood, and tried to bleach the color out. But she’s not Mito – she’s too young, and as he forces himself to walk closer, he sees the subtle differences. Her face looks softer than Mito’s; it lacks Mito’s high, arching cheekbones, and her smile is too sweet, too polished. Uzumaki Mito was a debutante, and while there’s no doubt that Sakura was, too, at some point, her smile is less genuine than Mito’s. Haruno Sakura, Shisui thinks, is a girl who will do whatever it takes to get what she wants.

Shisui takes a deep breath. Haruno Sakura isn’t Uzumaki Mito; that much is certain. But the resemblance is too striking to ignore. Setting his shoulders, Shisui jogs to catch up with her. “Sakura,” he calls, remembering a split second too late that he hasn’t met her yet, and there’s no reason for him to know her name.

Sakura turns around. Her eyes are a captivating green, the color of fresh spring grass in the sunlight. She doesn’t look surprised that Shisui knows her name. If anything her eyes are knowing. “Hello,” she says, all practiced politeness. “You are?”

“Uchiha Shisui,” he introduces.

Instantly, Sakura’s eyes go cold. Her smile stays in place, but it’s tight. “It’s lovely to meet you. Can I help you?” Her tone words aren’t inherently rude, and her tone is light and easy, but her expression says _shove off_.

Laughter bubbles up in his chest, but Shisui manages to keep his expression only faintly amused. “Isn’t that my line, doll?”

“Is it? The people here don’t seem the type to offer unsolicited help,” Sakura says, still smiling frigidly.

“I suppose they aren’t,” Shisui allows. He lifts his jacket a bit to show his badge, pinned to the waistband of his jeans. “But a police officer is the type to ask questions, isn’t he?”

If Sakura’s expression was frigid before, it’s reached arctic temperatures now. “Do police in Konoha not wear uniforms?”

“It’s a small town,” Shisui drawls. “Everyone around here knows the police. But you’re not from around here, are you?”

“I would think that would be obvious.” Sakura eyes him critically. Shisui is uncomfortably reminded of the look his high school principal gave him after an unfortunate prank involving Itachi, a visiting swim coach, and handcuffs. It’s not a pleasant look.

“Trust me, doll, it is. I have a couple questions for you, do you have a minute to sit down and talk?” Shisui gestures to the diner, two doors down from where they’re standing out in the cold.

“I didn’t realize I was under investigation.” Sakura’s face reveals nothing.

“You’re not,” Shisui assures her. “I guess I’m just… interested. It’s not every day I meet someone from out of town.” It’s not even a lie – Shisui has always been interested in the world away from Konoha. He doesn’t think his father could take it if he left, though. Not after Obito, and definitely not after Sasuke. The Uchiha are a fixture of Konoha as surely as the sea is.

Sakura blinks, and Shisui notices that her eyelashes are long and dark against her pale skin. “I have a little time,” she allows. This time, she follows him to the diner without protest. He leads her to the most secluded booth, towards the back, and sits down. Sakura slides in across from him.

“I hope I didn’t startle you, earlier,” Shisui says. “I imagine it’s rather alarming to have a stranger call your name. News travels fast in Konoha, though.”

“Understandable,” Sakura says with a little smile. “I’m afraid I underestimated the effect my arrival would have on the locals. Small towns always have their quirks, I suppose.”

“They do,” Shisui agrees easily. “It is a bit strange, though. I was curious when I heard that a girl named Sakura Haruno, with hair almost as red as an Uzumaki, came into town. I even did a little research.” Sakura doesn’t say anything, just watches him with a new wariness in her eyes. “So,” Shisui says, leaning forward across the table. “Who the hell are you? Because there’s absolutely no record of a Haruno Sakura from Ame. From anywhere, really.”

Sakura’s smile falters.

.

.

.

This is the first secret: Haruno Sakura does not exist.  
.

.

.

**Author's Note:**

> ao3>ff.net so I'm trying to transfer my stuff over here.  
> this will either get better or worse ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
